Moving On Up
by GlassSnowDrop
Summary: A tale of true love and becoming someone you always wished you could be.


Chapter One; Snooze buttons, coffee and strangers on balconies.

'Crap, crap, crap, crappity crap' I yelped, rummaging around my bedroom floor, trying to find something that would at least resemble a goddamn outfit. It was six thirty AM and I was going to be so late for work, and it was all that shitty snooze buttons fault. I didn't even know whose stupid idea it was anyway, after all, alarms are set for a reason right? So you wake up at a specific time, not goddamn thirty minutes later. Moaning, I shimmied into a black pencil skirt and tossed on a top that (mostly) looked like it was clean. Hopping around trying to pull on my heels and put my hair into a ponytail at the same time ended with me on my butt.

Two minute's and thirty seconds later I was out of my tiny bedroom into my equally tiny kitchen-diner and shoving a brioche in my mouth whilst filling the kettle. Whilst that was boiling I ran into the living room to grab my stuff, and God almighty I hoped my keys were in my bag because I hadn't seen them anywhere else. Why did I do this to myself every day! My bag was on the sofa and I went to grab it but… 'Holy Shit,' I muttered, because when I was getting my bag I'd happened to glance out onto my balcony and behold, there was a duvet-covered lump on my normally bare balcony. 'Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God' I whispered, hand over mouth.

I crept over to the windows as quietly as I could, and peered out at a dirty duvet covered body. Honestly, for a second I thought it was a body, and it was an alborate body-positioning like those serial killers do on CSI. However, the soft lifting and lilting of the coverings showed that this person was alive and breathing. At the end of the blankets matted brown hair showed, and there was a backpack underneath a muddy head. I was the proud new possessor of a real life tramp on my balcony. I kind of just stood there for a moment or two, biting my lip, unsure of what I should do.

Call the police? Maybe, the guy (I thought it was a guy anyway) was like trespassing or loitering or whatever. He could probably like burgle me and I would come home from work and all my stuff would be gone. Then again, what is there to steal? An old telly and a coffee machine was about l had of value. But he might be an axe-wielding murderer I guess, or he could take me back to his lair and torture me, or something like that. I'd watched this documentary this one time, back when I lived with my parents, about the homeless that kind-of pulled on my heart strings so I decided that I'd just leave him there and see if he was still there later. I think in situations like these, our brains run at high-speed, searching for a solution, and maybe I just wasn't thinking logically but that was what I decided.

Unnerved I half-ran back into the kitchen to pour my coffee into a travel-mug and leave asap. But I just kept thinking about that poor guy and how cold it must be out there in the April breeze. So I grabbed a few more brioches out the cupboard and a banana from the fruit bowl and put them in a container so they wouldn't get germy. I peeked into the living room and the guy hadn't moved so I ventured in cautiously. I slowly turned the key to the French windows and slid them open just enough to gently push the box of food through, and on a second thought put my coffee out there too. Then I slid the doors shut, firmly locked them and made a swift exit out of my apartment.

It was now almost seven and I had to be at work in half-an-hour so I practically flew out of the building door and onto the street. I half walked half ran to the bus stop a few metres down as the bus had already arrived and the queue to get on was only a few people. Relieved I flashed my ticked and sat down on a scratchy blue and cream seat. Luckily, I would make it to work only a few minute's late. As I sat there I mulled the events of the morning over, I already felt emotionally drained and it was only 7:05. I breathed my fringe out of my face, it was going to be a long day.

I hopped off the bus and walked around the corner to my building. It's not _my _building really, it belongs to the newspaper I work for, the independent, or the 'I' as it's called. I'm only like the junior of the most junior lackeys at the moment, but someday I hope to have articles printed weekly. But for now, I mostly research and make coffee. I don't even have a real desk, I have a 'station,' but that doesn't really matter as I'm running about most of the time anyway.

I walked in to my room, hoping nobody would notice me. 'Late again Matthews?' Mr Davis called over the plethora of stations. Internally, I groaned. Davis was the most annoying out of all that journalists that I worked for. 'Sorry!' I called, as I walked over to him 'won't happen again.'

'Better not.' He replied sternly, 'or I'll dock your pay.' Well, to be honest they couldn't really dock it much before it would be non-existent. But I needed all the money I could get so I apologised meekly. Davis rattled of a list of menial jobs that he wanted done, so I shoved my things under my station and set off to do number one, coffee. That reminded me of that guy I'd found that morning, and I wished as I whisked up Davis' coffee that he would leave whilst I was at work, because I could sense this was going to be an awful day and I really didn't want to deal with anymore shit.

After what seemed like an eternity, it was finally lunch. They make all us dogsbody's have differing lunch times so that they can always have someone to do their bidding. So I had to eat lunch without my friends today, which was okay because I needed some peace. I walked through the canteen to my favourite place in the building, a large balcony with a cover and heaters on which employees could eat lunch. I flopped down at an empty table and grabbed my bowl of pasta from my bag. As I ate, I sent a text to my friend Amy asking her I she wanted to come back to mine for rinks after work. Honestly, I just didn't want to go back there on my own.

'Hey,' a voice sounded next to me. I looked up and saw a gorgeous guy; blonde, athletic build, cute suit, all round yummy. 'Hi' I replied, feeling myself blushing, the curse of pale skin. 'Can I sit here?' he gestured to the empty seat in front of me. 'Sure,' I replied, glancing at the ton of empty tables around us. Mr Yummy saw my look and smiled with white teeth, 'Oh, I just couldn't let a beauty like you sit alone.' I giggled in reply. God, what is wrong with me, I never giggle! I took a drink of water to try to cover my lapse. 'So, what are you doing here?' I asked, 'wait, I mean like what do you do work wise here?' the guy laughed again, 'I work in I.T' he replied, 'databases and the like, some coding work.' I nodded, even though I had no clue what a database was, as I'm a bit off a technophobe. 'You?' He asked. 'I work for the second floor journalists, I'm pretty low-level but I hope to work my way up eventually' I shrugged. 'Sounds good, I'm Mark by the way,' said the guy. 'I'm Adison,' I replied, I glanced at the time on my phone, 'crap I better be getting back,' I said, shoving the phone into my bag, 'it was nice meeting you.'

'Yeah, you too,' smiled Mark, I smiled back and made my way back to the second floor. Maybe this day wouldn't be so bad after all.

After making a ton more coffee's and doing a ton more paper work, It was finally time to leave. Amy and I made our way back to my place to have a drink and probably watch some crap telly as we often did. When we entered the apartment I noticed with relief that the sleeping guy was gone, and with another weird feeling that the food box was empty and the coffee cup drained. I guess it felt kind-of good to do something nice like that. All in all, the day had turned out just fine.

AN; Please read!

Thank-you for reading this, it's an idea that's been flying around in my head for a couple of days and so I wrote it down. If you like this, I've got the whole story planned out and I will write it all, I'm finished with school now so I've got a ton of time to write in. Any (helpful) advice is welcomed and praise also (who doesn't love good reviews?!) Let me know what you think; review! Favourite! Follow! Love and blessings; C xx


End file.
